Every You, Every Me
by BingeB
Summary: Arthur and Morgana rule the school of St David's, taking what they want through seduction & manipulation. But things don't go quite to plan when a bet sets Merlin Emrys into Arthur's sights. Modern AU, SLASH...
1. Want to bet?

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Merlin, or indeed, Cruel Intentions

WARNINGS: Explicit sex from the outset, SLASH, language, and douchebags everywhere

SUMMARY: Arthur and Morgana rule the school of St David's, taking what they want through seduction & manipulation. But things don't go quite to plan when a bet sets Merlin Emrys into Arthur's sights. Modern AU, SLASH

A/N Based loosely on the plot of Cruel Intentions. It's very obvious in the first chapter, but will follow less closely as the story goes on.

* * *

_Like the naked leads the blind._

_I know I'm selfish, I'm unkind._

_Sucker love I always find,_

_Someone to bruise and leave behind._

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Want to bet?**

Arthur flung back his head and clutched at the edge of the desk with white-knuckled fists, his throat contracting with a shaky moan as the man thrust faster, rattling the surface Arthur was clinging to, and causing pens, papers, and a mobile phone to go shooting onto the floor. They clattered loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty classroom, but neither person noticed nor cared.

They merely rutted against each other harder, Arthur arching his back all the way up off the desk, grinding wantonly against the other man's hips, his naked erection leaving a sticky trail between them. His bottoms had been discarded - as well as his boxers - and he wore nothing but a white shirt, unbuttoned and pooled deliciously around his shoulders. His lover lowered his dark head to Arthur's chest, licking and nipping at his collarbones, his breath panting erratically against his sweat and spit-slick skin.

"More, more," Arthur panted, his grip on the desk loosening as the other man pounded harder, almost causing him to shoot over the edge of the desk and onto the ground. He was kept only in place by his lover's bruising grip on his spread thighs, that were holding Arthur open and allowing the other man to grind his dick teasingly between his ass cheeks.

"You want more?" the man breathed, and Arthur almost rolled his eyes, because hadn't he just said exactly that? His assent was cut off however, by a long, slick finger, pushing against his ass - firm and eager - and circling his exposed hole.

He gripped the man's cock in firm fist and shook his head, closing his thighs and informing him, matter-of-factly, "No intercourse."

His lover looked surprised, dark hair damp with moisture and lips bruised red from kissing.

"You have rules?" he asked, disbelieving, smoothing his hands up and down Arthur's naked thighs, looking as though he was trying to coax them back open.

The blond laughed, sharp and amused, wriggling back towards the other man and pressing himself back against him - less exposed than before, but purposely more wanton.

"Not rules," he explained, giving the man's cock a languish stroke, precum smearing across his fingertips, "Preferences."

The man nodded shakily, his own fingers leaving red indentations in Arthur's skin.

"Do you know what I do have a preference for, though?" the blond continued, his voice low and breathy, just suggestive enough to be effortlessly sexy. He slid off the desk, looking up at the other man through wide, mischievous eyes, and sunk to his knees. He flicked out his tongue, teasing, and licked the head of his lover's purpling cock, before answering, "Blow-jobs."

The man groaned, loud and unrestrained, hands fisting at Arthur's golden hair as his mouth engulfed his cock - hot, fast, and slick - until Arthur's nose was pressed against his pubic hair. He let out a cry, legs shaking, as Arthur's throat contracted around his cock, ripping an orgasm from deep inside him - over in only seconds. He poured into Arthur's mouth, and the blond swallowed eagerly - lapping with his tongue until he had finished.

Arthur shuddered, his breath catching in his chest - but scrabbled backwards, until he was actually sat upright on the desk, chest heaving and shining with the air of someone who was confident, controlled, and experienced - bringing himself off in quick, sure strokes.

By the time the other man had recovered from his climax, breathing slowly returning to it's regular rate, Arthur had finished himself off and clambered back to his feet, wriggling into his bottoms and buttoning his stain-covered shirt. He perched himself back on the edge of the desk, face shining with sweat and hair curling slightly behind his ears, looking gorgeously tousled, strangely smug, and thoroughly well-fucked. The other man merely stood where he was, pants around his ankles and heart thumping erratically in his chest.

"Well, sir," Arthur began after a pause, in a low throaty voice, pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, and flicking it alight, "That certainly wasn't something that was on the curriculum."

The teacher chuckled slightly, although it seemed a little forced now his wits were returning to him, and struggled back into his clothes - graceless when compared to Arthur's effortless sprawl.

"You can't smoke in here," he said in his most authoritative voice, for a lack of anything better to say. He tried for an unimpressed face, but he was still slack-jawed, slightly breathless - and so hoped raising his eyebrows as high as they could physically go would illustrate his point. "What happened between us doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."

Arthur laughed, and it was a brittle sound, almost mocking - his lips stretching wide across sharp, white teeth. It made Mr Brent feel uneasy, even more so after the blond ignored him and took a long, pointed drag, but as Arthur didn't contest his words, he chose not to press anything further. He merely reattached his belt and ran a hand through his messy hair, watching out the corner of his eye as the blond wandered over to the edge of the classroom, studying the posters on the walls, cigarette dangling from a casual hand.

"Now, about the latest essay on The Great Gatsby," Arthur began, after a moments pause, attention thoroughly engrossed in the wall decorations. He tapped a hand, and ash sprinkled over the floor; he was looking away however, and so missed his teacher's pointed scowl.

Mr Brent frowned, curious, as he picked up his tie from where it had been strewn across the floor. "What about it?"

Arthur turned his head slightly to look at him - just a mere tilt that made him look deceptively innocent - eyes bright and wide against his blond hair and flushed cheekbones. "I noticed you gave me a E," he said, giving his wrist another sharp flick.

"Arthur, you barely wrote anything," Mr Brent explained, eyebrows raised as he recalled Arthur's less than half-assed attempt at a two-thousand word essay, "It was only a paragraph long."

The blond nodded absently, making no move to deny it. "Yeah, see, that's where we've got a problem," he murmured, lifting a hand and stroking one of the posters with a curious finger, brow furrowing, "Because I have straight A's in everything else."

Mr Brent blinked. "Why didn't you do the work then?!"

After giving a tinkling laugh, Arthur spun on a heel to face him, cigarette dangling from wet, red lips as he shrugged. "I don't know," he replied, in a tone that was thick with bafflement - too thick. He grinned then, sharp and malicious, while adding, "Maybe I was too busy giving my teacher a blow-job."

Something in Mr Brent's stomach dropped through the floor, and he froze in redoing his tie, staring at the blond in wide-eyed surprise. "What are you saying?" he asked, although he already had a fairly good idea as to where the conversation was heading.

Arthur shrugged again, innocent, and tapped ash from his cigarette again, onto the floor. "You're a clever man, Mr Brent, I'm sure you can figure it out." He smiled. "Because if I don't get an A, I might have to appeal to the headmaster - and you know what, I think he'll be very interested to know what I've been doing in my free time, instead of my homework." He turned back to the wall then, ignoring his teacher s open-mouthed gaping, and ripped down a poster, before adding casually, "You might want to think about that."

And with that he moved to the door, blowing out a stream of smoke as he went, while calling, "Good day, sir," over his shoulder.

Mr Brent watched him go, heart lurching in his chest, hair in disarray and shoes still untied.

* * *

It was days like this, that Morgana almost thought her life was too easy. Where was the challenge? The excitement? Where was the adrenaline that made her heart thump erratically in her chest, loud and uncontrolled, and sweat shine across her forehead?

It almost made her wonder if her objective was even worth it - worth the sheer effort of gritting her teeth and smiling angelically, every inch the pure, sweet, and harmless virgin. But then she remembered Lance - his sad and sympathetic eyes, his watery voice, tinged with pity of all things, when he said, "I'm sorry, Morgana," all nauseatingly sincere - and she knew, just knew, that yes, it was worth it, worth every damn second of this sickeningly sweet charade.

He shouldn't pity her, of all people. It was almost laughable! She had everything that she wanted; he should save his pity for himself.

"I can assure you," she said, in her sweetest voice, tucking a dark curl behind her ear, "That Guinevere will be more than taken of. I'll see to it myself." She smiled softly, her pink lips curving only slightly, showing just a glimpse of straight white teeth - just wide enough that it seemed genuine, but gentle enough that it didn't seem harsh, predatory, or any of the things Arthur said made her look just a little bit evil. She had to be careful - to play things just right. Everything depended on it.

"That would be greatly appreciated," said the girl's father, nodding along eagerly to Morgana's encouraging words. He clasped his daughter's knee, tight and reassuring, while informing Morgana, "Gwen's not really had much experience at a private school before."

Morgana nodded politely, but her eyes were flinted, pinched, as she inwardly suppressed the urge to shudder. Not only was the girl average to look at - and really, that was Morgana being generous - but she was commoner, as well - plain, simple, and only excepted at the prestigious St. David's because of a scholarship. It made Morgana sick. How could Lance have preferred this plain slip of a girl to her? It was beyond insulting.

"I'll do my very best to take care of her," Morgana muttered, turning her gaze to Gwen - intense and unblinking - while throwing the girl a smile. Gwen smiled back hesitantly, dark curls bouncing, and fiddled with her fingers resting in her lap, so sweet and bashful it almost made Morgana physically sick.

"What about the boys there?" the girl's father questioned, which seemed to gain Gwen's attention; she titled her head slightly, interested.

"This school is the best in all of London," Morgana replied, dusting imaginary lint off her black pencil skirt, smoothing her hands slowly down her thighs. She met the man's eyes, her gaze direct and faux sincere. "All of men that go there are fine, upstanding gentlemen."

The father nodded, but there was something uneasy about his gaze, and he hesitated for a moment, unsure. "It's just -" he began, looking uncomfortable. Morgana waited, politely questioning, but made no move to rescue him from his distress, almost smiling in glee as he floundered. Eventually he powered on, but his tone was apologetic as he said, "I've heard rumours." He raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?"

At his words Morgana couldn't help but straighten, her expression frozen in something almost rigidly polite as she thought of what to say. Of course it would be about Arthur. Everyone had heard of him.

"My step-brother," she corrected, letting out a loud and exasperated sigh. "Arthur is one of the exceptions at St David's. He's a troubled young man, and sometimes takes things too far."

That was the understatement of the century, but she wasn't going to let Gwen's father know that.

The father blinked. "I heard he -" he looked nervously at his daughter and coughed "- slept with one of his teachers. On the teacher's desk. And then posted pictures of her naked on the internet!"

Morgana choked slightly and smiled, but it was genuine this time, tinted with amusement; she tried to keep it reassuring and apologetic, ever the picture of kindness and sophistication, but she was unable to suppress her glee. Arthur was inventive, she had to give him that.

"He's very troubled," is the only explanation she gave them in reply.

And as if by magic, the door swung open and Arthur himself swept into the room.

He was tall and imposing, broad-shouldered, and confident in a way that instantly commanded the attention of a room. He wasn't smiling, his jaw only grinding in regular intervals, in that way he did when he was thinking. He was wearing a smart blue shirt, casually unbuttoned, revealing glimpsed of smooth golden skin, and tight dark jeans, his hair effortlessly tousled and casually windswept.

The father blanched, but Gwen sat up straighter, biting her lip, anxious and so very interested.

"Sister," he greeted, sweeping towards Morgana's chair and giving her swift kisses on either cheek.

"Brother," she replied, through gritted teeth, hoping he would pick up on her telepathic waves telling him to get lost. She was close to securing Gwen (and her father's) trust, and Arthur was _not_ going to ruin it for her. "I thought you were working on an extra-curricular activity at school."

"Finished," Arthur announced, with a pleased smile, "You'll be happy to know I'm going to get an A!"

Morgana didn't doubt it.

"Sorry for being so rude, but this is my brother, Arthur Pendragon," Morgana explained, with a sweep of her hand, "Gwen's hoping to join St David's."

Arthur nodded, faux sincere. "Nice to meet you," he said, with a flash of grin that caused Gwen to blush and her father to tense. He moved closer, looking predatory now, and continued in his most flirtatious voice, "I so look forward to getting _very well_ acquainted with you."

Gwen squeaked, her face colouring, as her father jumped to his feet. "We're leaving now!" he announced, in a brittal tone. He ushered Gwen to her feet. "It was nice to meet you, Morgana."

Attempting to stop herself from smacking Arthur about the head, Morgana smiled, shook the father's hand, and gave Gwen a farewell wave. "I look forward to you starting at St David's," she preened, as they moved towards the door at a hurried pace, "Bye Gwen!"

"Bye Gwen!" Arthur added, in an amused tone, as her father threw a glare over his shoulder and snapped the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Do you have to ruin everything?" Morgana cried, as soon as she was sure they were gone.

Arthur collapsed back on the sofa, legs propped upwards, and raised an eyebrow, relaxed and unconcerned. "I didn't do anything," he replied, leaning his head back and revealing a long sliver of golden neck, pulling up his sunglasses and resting them on top of his head.

Morgana blew out a stream of breath, feeling aggravated.

"Your reputation is enough to scare people off!" she cried, shaking her head and pulling out her conservative pony-tail, allowing her long, curly hair to cascade down her back, just how she liked it. Sometimes she hated the facade she had to put on for people, full of proper dark pant-suits, slicked back hair and a long fine cross necklace - it was suffocating, confining, and absolutely exhausting. She just didn't know how people could be so _nice_ all the time.

"Excuse me," Arthur replied, sounding calm, lazy and just a little bit amused, "My reputation is something I took a long time building."

Morgana glared at him with slanted eyes, hoping he could feel her rolling waves of contempt, before unbuttoning her suit jacket with a relieved sigh, and revealing a tight, gold top - it dipped into her cleavage, tantalising, and shimmered as she moved, the small insewn gems glinting in the lamp light.

"You almost ruined my plans!" she continued, tossing back her hair and sucking in a breath, chest heaving with the momentum. Arthur was watching closely, and see was pleased to see desire in his eyes - hooded, intense, and longing. "No father wants his sweet little daughter to go to a school with you attending."

Arthur blinked out of his stupor and laughed, a merry bell-like sound, throwing back his head and shoulders shaking with mirth. As usual, he looked sickeningly pleased with himself. "I try," he said, teeth glinting through his ferocious grin.

"It's not funny!" Morgana snapped, in no mood for her brother's games. She led back on her sofa and stretched out her legs, skirt riding up her smooth skin and revealing her soft, pale thighs. She let out a troubled sigh.

Arthur gave her a side-long glance, eyebrow raised, and lit a cigarette, letting it dangle casually in his fingers. He blew on the end, slow and almost sensual, red lips glistening as it glowed. "Why are you so worked up?" he asked, with the air of the person who didn't really care but felt obliged to ask anyway.

Morgana huffed, and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the way her voice rose an octave - sharp and bitter - as she explained, "That girl, it was Gwen."

"Gwen?" Arthur repeated, taking a long drag of his cigarette, until, "Oh! Gwen! The girl that Lance dumped you for? I see." He nodded, and his lips quirked slightly, mischievous, as he connected the dots of Morgana's plan. "Is that was this is all about then? Revenge?"

"Well, can you honestly blame me?!" Morgana snapped, something in her composure breaking, her eyes blazing and chest heaving in outrage. Arthur blinked at her for a moment, surprised, as she fought to regain her poise. "Did you see her? How could Lance have dumped me? For that!"

Arthur grinned, and it was malicious, revelling in her misery. "Oh, I thought she was cute!" he exclaimed, voice thick with faux innocence, almost crowing in victory as his sister went rigid with anger.

Morgana's jaw snapped, but she suppressed the urge to react, to let him win, merely rearranging her face into her most sickeningly sweet smile, disbelieving that anyone could think that slip of a girl cute. Arthur was just trying to mess with her, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let him; she was better than his childish games.

"Good," she murmured, through gritted teeth, "I'm glad you think she's cute, because I am going to need you to seduce her."

Arthur sighed and tossed his head, like he was expecting Morgana to say exactly that - and he probably was, because who knew her better than him? "I'm sorry - can't," he replied, blowing out a long stream of smoke and watching it curl in front of him, fanning out into the air, not sounding sorry at all, "I have more important things to be focusing on."

That was not what Morgana wanted to hear. "Like what?!" she cried, disbelieving, her voice almost cracking as she fought to keep it controlled. He was her brother, for all intents and purposes, and he was not going to refuse her.

The blond grinned and sat back upright, placing his fag between his lips and pulling a folded up piece of paper out the pocket of his jeans. He straightened it out quickly, eyes alight with glee - crinkled at the corners. He got to his feet and approached Morgana, leaning over the back of her sofa, his breath puffing gentle and warm down her neck, dangling the paper in front of her.

"Lookie, lookie, what I found!" he crowed.

Morgana sighed (her boredom and exasperation loud and pointed), but snatched the sheet from his grasp regardless, silently curious as to what had gotten her brother so irritatingly excited. She looked down on it, eyebrows raised, as she realised it was a poster, probably snatched from the school campus, and titled, 'Want to wait?' It had a picture of two people having sex, with a bright red cross over it, looking as though it had been created by someone who had got slightly overexcited with rainbow felt-tips.

She frowned. "What is this? A celibacy club?"

"That's right," Arthur replied, breathing smoke down her cleavage, his voice tinted with amusement, "Who knew there were any virgins still left at St David's?"

"Yeah," Morgana agreed, bored now, slapping the poster back into his chest, "Amazing that you haven't yet deflowered them all." Her tone was suitably sarcastic.

Arthur ignored her, as he often did when somebody said something he didn't like. He obviously wasn't finished. "I looked up the name at the bottom in the school records: Merlin Emrys."

That got Morgana's attention. She craned her neck back to look at him, suspicious, because none of the students - not even ones of Arthur and Morgana's calibre - were allowed access to the school records. They were supposed to be private and confidential. What had Arthur done now?

"How?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice cool and nonchalant, because god forbid she show actual interest.

"I gave Holly Davies sexual favours," Arthur explained, casual, but there was something proud in his voice as well.

Morgana sighed. Holly Davies was the school receptionist, and one of the administration department. Of course. She wasn't even surprised - it was just like Arthur to use his sexuality as a weapon. It was perhaps the one of the only similarities between the two siblings - the other being their complete disregard for everything and everyone that crossed them.

There was a quick pause, a rustle, before Arthur passed her another piece of paper. It appeared to be a print-out of Merlin Emrys essential information, with a small passport photo on the left. Arthur pointed at it, explaining somewhat unnecessarily, as Morgana was neither blind nor stupid, "This is him."

Morgana squinted down at the picture, taking in the scruffy black hair, sharp cheekbones, and bright blue eyes. And what appeared to be a ratty red scarf, hanging round his neck like some sort of dead animal - only a lot less expensive. She crinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew," she exclaimed, "What is he wearing?"

She felt Arthur shrug behind her, a small jerk of his shoulder.

"He's got virgin written all over him, hasn't he?" he asked, in a way that seemed to be rhetorical. He grinned against the side of Morgana's hair, his lips ghosting her temple, a ran a gentle finger along her jaw - it was sensual, and teasing, and so very them. They were playing, just as they always did. "Think of what seducing him will do for my reputation - he's the fucking president of the Celibacy Club!"

Morgana rolled her eyes, because it was just like Arthur to try something like this - with anyone, rich or poor, male or female, because unlike her, he didn't seem to have actual standards. As far as her brother was concerned, anyone with a pulse was fair game. He said it made things exciting, and interesting to mix things up, and that really, sex is sex at the end of the day, so who even cares who it's with? It was one philosophy they'd never really agreed on; he said she was too picky.

"You'll never do it," she informed him snottily, like talking to a small child, giving him a mocking pat on the cheek, "He's taken a vow of celibacy, Arthur."

The blond laughed, nipped her sharply on the jaw - purposely painful - before strolling back to his own sofa, lying back and drifting an absent hand down his chest, parting the shirt and revealing smooth, hard skin. He grinned, and it was challenging, and seductive, and if Morgana didn't have so much self control, she might have even moaned a little bit - because as much as she liked to play with him, and as much as she sometimes despised him, he was a very attractive man. He knew that.

"Want to bet?" he dared, stretching his legs.

"No," she said pointedly, unwilling to rise to his bait, "What I want is for you to seduce Gwen."

Arthur rolled his eyes and dropped his hand, but although his posture had deflated somewhat, his eyes were still glinting, not yet defeated. "Could you be more boring?" he asked, loud and mocking, because he knew it would rile her.

Morgana inhaled a lungful of air but managed to maintain her nonchalant demeanour, rigid in her posture, because she refused to be baited by the likes of him. She knew what he was trying to do, and she sure as hell wasn't going to let him. Sometimes she hated that he knew her so well, that he almost understood her, because he knew how to get to her - just like she did for him - and he wielded it like a weapon. He was like her: nasty, spiteful, and unrelenting, until he finally got what he wanted.

"Maybe that's why Lance dumped you," he continued, pressing, his lips turned up into a malicious smile - just like he always did when he knew he was winning. "Because you're boring."

Morgana surged to her feet, manicured fingers curling into fists, the urge to reach for him, to claw at his perfect face, almost too much to resist. "Enough!" she snapped, voice full of venom, the desire to take revenge thrumming through her veins, "I'll do your stupid bet."

Arthur's face broke out into a victorious grin, full of sharp white teeth, and Morgana hissed, because if he thought he was going to get away with baiting her like that, he had another thing coming. She was going to get the conversation back under her control, just how she liked it.

"I already know the terms," she told him, moving forwards, her steps slow and predatory - victory her only thought now. "If I win, you do whatever I wish, including seducing dear Guinevere."

The blond blinked for a moment, licking his lips, and watching his step-sister with thinly veiled suspicion. She bent towards him, long curls cascading over her shoulders and brushing his chest, her glossy mouth parting ever so slightly. He stared, bright eyes sweeping down her exposed cleavage, cigarette dangling from a loose hand.

"And if I win?" he asked, his voice a rough sort of croak.

"If you win," Morgana began, shimmying up her skirt and reclining herself onto her step-brother lap, hip to hip and face to face, "You get what you've always wanted."

She puffed her warm breath against his lips and wriggled her hips, pressing down onto his crotch with suggestive intent, her eyes glinting with victory.

Arthur let out a long breath, stuttering slightly from his chest, but his face was purposely indifferent, his fingers digging tight on her hip.

"And what is that?" he questioned, something cheeky and amused colouring his tone, as he arched upwards, pressing her into his growing arousal.

She ground herself down on him - something tight curling in her belly - and tilted her head, brushing her lips over the smooth skin of his temple, his cheek, and finally his mouth. Her fingers fluttered around his neck, a painted red nail skimming his thrumming pulse, and digging mercilessly into his skin. "You get me," she breathed.

She pressed a pointed hand against his cock, palming the bulge in his jeans, and met his eyes unblinkingly.

"The only person you could never have," she explained, brow cocked.

Arthur groaned, and his eyes fluttered, a breathy, "Jesus!" escaping his parted mouth.

"Then you'll take the bet?" Morgana pressed, rocking against him slowly, his arousal pressing into her parted legs. "Yes?"

After a few more moments of slow grinding and heavy breathing, Arthur jerked his head slightly in something that resembled agreement. "Yes," he croaked, in a rough voice, grasping at her hips. "Yes."

Morgana grinned. "Good," she said, stilling her movements and climbing to her feet. Arthur groaned in disappointment, looking at her through fogging eyes, as she clasped his face in a tight and sharp-nailed grip. "May the best person win."

With that, she turned on a heel, smoothed her skirts and swept in the direction of the door without looking back.

"Morgana!" Arthur exclaimed, sounding horrified. "You can't just leave me like this, you harpy!

"I suggest you get Merlin to give you a hand with it, if you want to win this bet," she replied, smirking, and closing the door with a snap behind her.

TBC...

* * *

A/N I'm well aware that Arthur is a douche - he's intended to be. He will get better, I swear!

Please R&R if you want me to continue...


	2. Rome wasn't built in a day

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of Merlin, or indeed, Cruel Intentions

WARNINGS: Explicit sex from the outset, SLASH, language, and douchebags everywhere

SUMMARY: Arthur and Morgana rule the school of St David's, taking what they want through seduction & manipulation. But things don't go quite to plan when a bet sets Merlin Emrys into Arthur's sights. Modern AU, SLASH

A/N Based loosely on the plot of Cruel Intentions.

This fic is unbetad, so any mistakes are mine that I haven't spotted in the reread

* * *

Chapter 2 - Rome wasn't built in a day

The next day, Arthur was ready to put his plan into motion.

He didn't see the point in taking his time plotting or manipulating, unlike one person he could mention - namely Morgana. He had always been much more direct in his approach to things, outwardly harsh, cruel, and arrogant, unlike his sister's underhanded scheming. He didn't care what people thought of him, but she did, despite all her protests; she cared very much. God forbid she wasn't the flawless Queen of St David's.

His only plan was to hover outside classroom 4b, until the Celibacy Club had finished session, and corner Merlin afterwards. It would be easy from there - just a flutter of his eyelashes, a small exposure of skin, and Merlin would be putty in his hands. He was celibate, after all - he had to be absolutely gagging for a shag.

Before he could make his move however, he was distracted from his hovering by Lance, one of the players on his football team.

He was dark-skinned and dark-haired, beautiful like Arthur, in a dark, handsome kind of way; but with none of his confidence, none of the swagger than made him striking. Lance was too goddamn nice for that, and as much as Arthur wanted to (and sometimes he really, really did), he just couldn't bring himself to hate him.

Arthur sometimes wondered if hanging out with Lance was what he could call friendship. Lance seemed to think so, considering he genuinely seemed to care about the blond, despite Arthur's sometimes questionable actions. But Arthur had never really had a friend before. There were people, certainly - those who wanted to hang out with him, who wanted to bask in his popularity, to be in his presence - but that was more being in the same vicinity than actual friendship. Arthur didn't actually care for anyone. Not in the whole world. But if he did - if he actually had feelings - he was sure (with the possible exception of Morgana) that it would be Lance. Sweet, kind Lance.

"Coming to practise tonight?" Arthur's not-friend asked, breezing up beside him, bag slung over one shoulder and shirt buttoned to the collar. His expression was politely inquisitive, looking every inch the proper, dedicated St David's student.

Arthur nodded in assent, and muttered an absent, "Umm-hmm," somewhat distracted by activity in the Celibacy Club classroom. They all appeared to be sat in a circle, like something out of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and were probably announcing themselves as virgins as he spoke.

Lance, seemingly noticing his not-friend's wavering attention, frowned. "What are you doing lurking in the hallway?" he asked, looking up and down, as though expecting the answer to jump out at him. When it didn't, his face darkened, morphing into something shrewd and suspicious, and he turned to Arthur with accusing eyes. "Are you still after Mr Brent?"

Arthur gave him a disgusted sort of look, insulted that Lance thought it would really take him that long to bag the English teacher. Mr Brent had been easy - just like everyone before him. There had been no real challenge there. None at all.

"Please," Arthur exclaimed, with a pointed roll of his eyes, "I already fucked Brent."

Lance looked alarmed to hear this, which was unsurprising, considering he'd spent the whole of the previous week telling the blond, "He'll never sleep with you! He's a teacher!" The memory almost made Arthur laugh; like that even mattered.

"What?!" Lance croaked, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "When?!"

"On Friday," Arthur replied, casual. But he was unable to suppress his grin a moment later, as he added, "I believe he's agreeing to up my grade for the Great Gatsby essay as we speak."

Lance stared at him for a long moment, seemingly lost for words, before shaking his hair in a rueful sort of way, informing Arthur, absolutely deadpan, "You need help. Professional help."

Normally Arthur would give a person a piece of his mind for disrespecting him - maybe even punch them - but Lance was Lance, and was admittedly, quite possibly right.

"Probably," Arthur agreed, with an unconcerned sort of shrug, eyes flickering back to the classroom where most of the Celibacy Club were still packing up. He rocked on the balls of his feet, impatient; he wasn't the type to wait for what he wanted.

"So," Lance began, drawling the word out loud and long, "What are you doing?" He waved an absent hand in Arthur's direction, and looked him up and down, eyebrow raised. "And don't try to deny it, you never just stand around and do nothing."

The blond grinned, ferocious, "Just, you know, doing market research."

"What do you mean?" Lance looked puzzled for a moment, suspicious, before something changed - maybe he saw something in Arthur's face, his defiant expression, because he quickly gave his head a violent shake. "Actually, you know what, I probably don't want to know," he remarked, in a tone that was long-suffering, "The image of you and Mr Brent having sex is already scarring me for life."

"On the desk in the English classroom," Arthur generously informed him. Because he was nice like that.

Lance's face scrunched, and he shuddered a bit, ever the bashful gentlemen. "Ew," he mouthed, and Arthur grinned in triumph, before he saw movement out the corner of his eye.

"Wait here," he said hurriedly, seizing his chance as the Celibacy Club filed out of the classroom and conveniently left Merlin behind. "We'll go to lunch after. I just need to speak to someone."

Lance nodded, somewhat vaguely, apparently not having recovered from the mental images of Arthur shagging his English teacher. Lance was delicate like that, and Arthur almost felt bad for telling him - except not really, because Lance's horrified face was priceless.

"Back in a minute."

He breezed into the classroom, all long, effortless strides, with his white shirt unbuttoned and blazer discarded.

He spotted Merlin immediately, who had looked up from organising his papers at Arthur's rather noticeable entrance, eyes widening and brow furrowing.

He was very skinny in person, almost a ghostly white, with dark hair stuck up in all directions and full, pink lips. It could have been worse, Arthur supposed, but the gangling kid was certainly no Morgana when it came to appearance. But then again, nobody really was - not even Arthur.

"Are you Merlin?" the blond asked, his voice ringing loud and clear in the silence of the room. He moved forwards, until he was looking the other man directly in the eye, surprised to find the kid was just a sliver taller than him. He didn't like that; he felt uneasy for a brief moment, almost at a disadvantage, before he suppressed it with a radiant smile, his teeth sharp and gleaming.

Merlin blinked at him, clearly bemused, Adam's apple bobbing in a long, pale throat, as he struggled to respond. "Yeah," he croaked eventually, eyebrows rising steadily up his forehead. He seemed to recover a second later though, and sounded almost accusing when he asked, "Can I help you?"

Arthur was slightly taken aback with the sharpness of the other man's tone, but refused to let it deter him - he was nothing if not resilient. Morgana often said his sheer pigheadedness was one of his greatest attributes, as well as one of his most irritating.

He tried again, pitching his voice low and soft, as he explained, "Yeah, actually. I'm -"

"Arthur," Merlin finished for him. He went back to packing his bag. "Yeah, I know who you are." His gaze flickered upwards to the blond - if only for a second - as though measuring his reaction. "We have History together."

Arthur blinked, bemused, but his face was determinedly blank. He hadn't known that. There were so many people in their school, and some were just so easy to overlook. Perhaps he should have looked into that beforehand...

"Oh, right," he replied, attempting to sound knowing. "Of course. I've noticed you around."

Merlin didn't look as though he believed him. For good reason of course, since Arthur was lying through his teeth. Still, people were usually so preoccupied with staring at Arthur with unabashed adoration that they didn't usually give two shits about what came out of his mouth. Which was just as well really, considering Arthur was usually insulting and/or condescending, depending on who he was speaking to.

"You have?" Merlin mouthed, one eyebrow raised crookedly, his tone doubtful. He looked as though he had absolutely no idea what was going on; with good reason, considering Arthur hadn't so much as given him a passing glance before.

But Arthur - deciding drastic measures were needed - smiled softly, just a small tilt of his mouth, which made him look kind and slightly bashful. He leaned forwards slightly, as though about to reveal a secret, and inwardly laughed in victory as his shirt shifted with his movement, and Merlin's gaze flickered momentarily to the patch of newly revealed skin. He quickly pressed his advantage, muttering, "You're very noticeable," in the other man's ear.

Merlin recoiled in surprise, his cheeks blooming with an embarrassed sort of flush, as he scrabbled for his things, eyes bright and angry. "Look, whatever it is you're doing, you can forget it," he snapped, shoving his books into his bag with unnecessary violence, looking so self-righteous that under any other circumstances Arthur would have laughed.

But he merely frowned instead, his face a perfect picture of sincere confusion. "What d'you mean?"

Merlin gave him an icy glare. "I'm not stupid, ok." He flipped his bag onto his bag, and turned to look at the blond directly, even his ears an outrageous red - and Arthur had to suppress a bizarre urge to laugh. "I've heard all about you."

Arthur couldn't stop himself from raising his eyebrows, genuinely curious now, because he hadn't even known Merlin existed, and yet Merlin apparently knew all about him. It was strangely disconcerting.

"What have you heard?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving the other man a generous view of his bared forearms.

Merlin pulled no punches. He looked Arthur directly in the eye, almost challenging, if it wasn't for the fiery blush still descending down his neck - either from anger or embarrassment, Arthur wasn't sure. He replied, deadpan, "That you're a lying, conceited, manipulative bastard, who'll pretty much sleep with anyone to get what he wants."

If Arthur was even remotely sensitive, such a scathing assessment would have stung, but he was Arthur Pendragon, and actually, he really didn't care. He knew what he was - he had no illusions to the fact that he was a nice person.

Still, it was surprising - and almost refreshing - that Merlin had the nerve to say it to his face, especially considering Arthur could take out the small slip of a man with one single blow. Merlin had courage, and Arthur liked that, even if it did mean winning the bet had just become that much harder.

So many things in his life came easy, it was nice - a novelty even - to actually be presented with a real challenge. Now he could really put his skills to the test.

He schooled his expression into that of incredulous hurt, and shook his head empathically. "Wow, those are pretty harsh assumptions to make, considering you don't even know me."

Merlin was apparently unsympathetic to his plight. "Nor to I intend to know you," he replied, sounding so snarky that Arthur almost laughed, because wow, the boy had balls. He gave the blond one last scathing look and brushed past him, flouncing to the door with his unwavering self-righteousness. "Now if you'll excuse me," he sniped.

Arthur watched him go in thinly veiled amusement, vaguely aware that he should feel angry or insulted, but only feeling excited.

The bet had just got interesting, just the way he liked it.

* * *

Arthur caught up with Lance still stood outside the classroom, waiting patiently, but looking increasingly baffled by Arthur's disappearance into a Celibacy Club meeting. He was looking down the corridor, where Merlin's dark head was disappearing into the distance, arms crossed and brow burrowed.

As soon as he saw Arthur he raised his eyebrows, the look so penetrating that if Arthur was anybody else, he'd probably wilt under the pressure of his gaze. But Arthur was made of steelier stuff than that, and merely gave his not-friend a challenging look in response.

Lance ignored it, as he often did when Arthur acted like an idiot, and prompted, "Well?" looking expectant.

The blond gave his shoulder a confused sort of shrug, eyes wide and deceptively innocent. "Well, what?" he questioned, the baffled tone sounding strange from his lips.

"How did it go?" Lance continued, undeterred and unimpressed by Arthur's act of innocence.

"What go?" the blond asked, choosing to play dumb for just a moment longer. For some reason he doesn't want to tell Lance about Merlin - not yet, anyway - because he really doesn't want to hear Lance's sounds of disapproval and disgust. Sometimes Lance's disapproval could be fun - Mr Brent, case in point - but other times (like now for instance), Arthur just really didn't want to hear it.

"Whatever you were doing in there..." Lance persisted.

Arthur sometimes wondered if Lance knew him a little too well.

"I wasn't doing anything - not yet, anyway," he replied, which was near enough to the truth. Suddenly full of curiosity about Merlin, he shoved his hands in his pockets and asked, "You're in my History class, aren't you? Do you know anyone called Merlin Emrys?"

Lance gave his head a nod, looking more confused than before. "Yeah, black hair, blue eyes? He sits at the front."

Arthur's eyebrows shot into his hair, surprised; Merlin had not so much had registered on his own radar. "How'd you know that?!"

Lance rolled his eyes, and informed him, quite seriously, "Because I don't ignore everyone that ranks below a seven on the attractiveness scale... unlike you."

Arthur scoffed, attempting to feel offended before he realised that it was probably the truth. "Oh, please," he replied, "Merlin is at least a seven."

Lance stared.

Feeling defensive under the weight of his non-friend's disbelieving look, he backtracked slightly. "He's got the elfin look going on, you know?"

Lance smirked, and cocked a victorious eyebrow. "Right."

"Shut up, Lance."

* * *

Morgana really wished she could just push Gwen down a flight of stairs and be done with it.

It had only been one day, and already Morgana felt as though she was reaching the end of her patience. She was showing the girl around the school as part of her duties as Head Girl, but wanted nothing more than to leave her in the music block and lock the door behind her.

She could not remain in Gwen's company for one moment longer.

The girl was just so infuriatingly _nice_ all the time. She smiled radiantly whenever Morgana complimented her, simpered her thanks whenever somebody opened a door for her, and giggled so high and merry at very slight provocation that Morgana felt like clawing her own ears out to silence the sound.

But she had shown her every courtesy, as was expected of her, and Gwen, of course, was falling for it - hook, line and sinker.

They rounded a corner and descended a flight of stairs into the English department, Morgana nodding and smiling to any friends and acquaintances who approached her. She listened to their complaints, laughed at their jokes, and showed interest in all of their problems, just as a Head Girl should. She was popular for a reason; it was all part of the game.

Gwen watched her in awe, hanging on her every word, and Morgana revelled in her success. She was in control, just how she liked it, with Lance's little 'friend' eating out the palm of her hand. Stage 1 of the plan was almost complete.

"So what do you think so far?" Morgana asked, though she didn't particularly care for the answer. She waved to a pack of 'friends' that called her name, smiling rigidly, and smoothed down her pencil skirt, which was pinching at the waist and restricting her air-flow. She hated the uniforms.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" Gwen gushed, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet and giving her surroundings an admiring glance. "I can't wait to begin!"

Morgana nodded, attempting to look interested, before catching a flash of golden hair out the corner of her eye.

Arthur was mounting the stairs at the other end of the corridor, puffing on a cigarette and talking to Morgana's ex-boyfriend. Students parted as they passed, staring admiringly, and Morgana fought to roll her eyes in exasperation.

_Great_, Morgana thought sarcastically, as they moved ever closer. Just what she needed. Gwen would spot them soon, and then there would be no escape.

She only prayed that Arthur would keep his goddamn mouth shut about her plan. She didn't believe that Arthur would betray her confidence, not really, but he had a habit of speaking before he thought - and any slight slip could arouse Lance's suspicions of her plans.

When he had finished the relationship with her, citing having feelings for another woman as the reason, Morgana had, of course, investigated - and discovered through various sources Lance's increasing affection for a curly haired girl he'd met at band camp.

The girl hadn't been hard to track down, and luckily, had already applied to 's for a scholarship. A quick call to her father, explaining her position as Head Girl, and Gwen had fallen right into her trap.

She would not have Arthur endanger that - brother or not.

* * *

"You've made me late for lunch, again!" Lance complained, as they turned away from the Celibacy Club classroom and rounded the corner into the English department.

Arthur rolled his eyes, as he often did when Lance was being annoying, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket; he felt as though he deserved one after his little chat with Merlin. "Will you stop being a whiney little bitch," he said, flicking his lighter to life, and taking a deep, long drag of his smoke, "You didn't have to wait!"

Lance shot him a disapproving look out the corner of his eye, and batted the smoke away dramatically. Other students parted in the hallway as they passed, admiration and adoration plain on their faces. Some muttered greetings, some scuttled away in fear - but all gave them their full attention.

Arthur gave his cigarette a self-satisfied tap in response.

"Look, I was just being ni - Gwen!"

"What?" Arthur replied, confused, before realising he'd lost Lance's attention. His not-friend had frozen to the spot, eyes wide, forcing students to move around him.

"Gwen!" Lance repeated, as Arthur followed his gaze down the corridor.

Stood at the other end, was Gwen, the cute curly-haired girl Morgana had met with a few days before - and she was not alone.

Morgana was beside her, looking tall and elegant as usual, her dark hair plaited conservatively down her back. She was looking at them, her green eyes bright with intensity, flicking over Arthur to rest unblinkingly on Lance. Arthur almost felt bad for him; Lance had no idea what he was getting into by dating her.

But Gwen appeared oblivious to Morgana's mounting annoyance. She had looked up at the sound of her name, and her gaze fell immediately upon Lance, her cheeks flushing pink with pleasure.

"Lance!" she cried, hurrying down the corridor to meet him.

Morgana did nothing for a long moment, and Arthur wondered with surprise if she was simply going to walk away - but Morgana was made of steelier stuff than that, and followed Gwen down the corridor only seconds later. Her stride was cool and purposeful, and her face carefully blank - but there was fury in her eyes, Arthur could see it.

"Gwen!" Lance exclaimed, sounding genuinely happy to see her.

"You know each other?" Morgana asked innocently, as though she didn't already know, her smile positively frosty.

"Yes, we met over the summer," Gwen answered, with gushing enthusiasm, "At band camp."

Arthur's mouth dropped open in genuine astonishment he was unable to suppress, and he rounded on his friend. "Band camp?!" he repeated incredulously, "You said you were going to a football camp!"

Lance flushed. "Yes, well, I knew you'd laugh."

"I don't think we can hang out anymore," Arthur announced, deadly serious. _Band camp_. Jesus. Lance was even more of a pussy than he thought.

Lance however, appeared to recover a moment later. He merely gave a pointed roll of his eyes in response. "With all the crap I've to put up with from you, you're going to have to deal with Band Camp."

Arthur scoffed slightly, but knew better than to try and argue that point. "So," he said, drawing the word out and pretending to look interested, "how was it?" He looked between Lance and Gwen staring unabashedly at each other, and Morgana, whose face was frozen, quietly seething, and said suggestively, "I'm sure you two became the best of friends."

Gwen blushed slightly under the force of Arthur's stare, and admitted, with all the naivety of a newborn babe, "Yes, Lance was very supportive, I don't know what I would have done without him."

Arthur beamed back at her, rather enjoying the muscle of rage jumping in Morgana's jaw, and said, "Lance is nothing if not a gentleman. I think he'd make a fine boyfriend, don't you?"

"Arthur!" Lance gasped, looking increasingly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going. He too, seemed to be sensing the radiating waves of contempt rolling off Morgana. He had dated her, after all; he knew, to a certain extent, what she was like.

"What?" Arthur replied innocently, with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "I'm just making conversation."

"So Gwen," Lance said, trying valiantly to change the subject, "How do you know Morgana?"

Gwen opened her mouth to respond, but Morgana spoke instead, in her coolest and most collected tone: "I'm showing her around the school. It is my duty as Head Girl."

"She's been so nice and helpful," Gwen added, throwing Morgana such a grateful smile Arthur almost choked in his attempt not to laugh. Nice people were _so_ easy to manipulate.

Morgana gave a quick and sharp quirk of her lips in response.

Lance nodded in understanding, but he looked wary, almost suspicious. Like he knew there was something going on that didn't meet the eye. He was right of course, but Arthur wasn't going to be the one to tell him that. "Well," he said, after a awkward pause, "please let me know if you need anything. Maybe we can sit together at lunch?"

Gwen beamed, and Morgana scowled. "That would be great! Thanks so much!"

"No problem," Lance replied, and the smile he gave back was warm and affectionate.

Arthur only laughed; Morgana's revenge was going to be something to behold.

* * *

When Arthur got home that evening, Morgana was waiting for him, like a Huntsman Spider lying in wait for her prey.

She was sat on a deep leather sofa, curls cascaded down her back and legs propped up on the armrest, painting her toenails with an exaggerated sort of flourish. She wore nothing but a silk black dressing-gown pooling artfully around her bare cleavage, and a devilish smile, eyes alight with malice. She had chosen the colour blood-red for her varnish.

"So," she began innocently, before Arthur could turn around and walk straight back out again,"No luck with Merlin then?"

Arthur shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant. Merlin may have been a little different than he expected, but he was nothing if not persistant. "Not yet," he conceded, in his most uncaring voice, "Rome wasn't built in a day."

Morgana grinned, a stupidly smug smile that made Arthur want to hit something. "You must be losing your touch," she said gleefully, her teeth shining bright in the low light of the room.

Arthur smiled back, equally as malicious, and pitched forwards - circling Morgana's seat and smoothing a slow hand down her silk-clad back. She did not flinch. "My touch is as pleasurable as ever," he murmured, "I can assure you."

Morgana threw off his hand with a haughty jerk of her shoulder. "Merlin doesn't seem to think so."

Raising a careful brow, Arthur retreated, in case she decided to claw him with her talons, and said lowly, "Nor does Lance think the same of yours."

Morgana laughed, but it was a chilly sound, and Arthur almost had to suppress the urge to shiver. Perhaps he shouldn't have gone there; to bring Lance into arguments was like prodding a sleeping lion. He didn't want to awaken the beast.

But Morgana's reaction was subdued - she did not fly into the rage Arthur had been expecting, which only made him more uneasy. She simply continued painting her nails, face blank, as though lost in her thoughts - quietly plotting. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft, and somewhat dangerous.

"Very funny of you to drag out the Gwen and Lance situation today," she murmured, in a way that sounded as though she had not found it funny at all.

"I did rather enjoy your mounting rage," Arthur admitted, unable to suppress a smile.

"Make the most of it," she warned, without even looking at him, painting her nails with a constant _flick flick flick_, as though he was beneath her notice, "Once I win the bet, you will have to do whatever I say - like seducing Guinevere for instance."

Arthur scoffed; he'd never lost a bet before, and he wasn't about to start now. Not with so much on the line. "You wish, Morgana." He straightened his shoulders and puffed out his chest, challenging. "The Merlin situation is under control."

His step-sister raised disbelieving eyebrows. "Really? How's that?"

Arthur turned on a heel, marched out the room, and proclaimed: "I have a new plan!"

* * *

"I want to join the Celibacy Club," Arthur announced the next morning, giving a startled Merlin his most dazzling smile, eyes crinkling and teeth flashing.

After jumping three feet in the air from Arthur's sudden appearance, Merlin scrambled to compose himself, picking up the pens he had scattered all over the floor and giving Arthur a vicious glare. "Excuse me?"

Arthur took in a breath and started again. "I said -"

"I know what it is you said!" Merlin squeaked, his voice having risen by several octaves. He stared unblinkingly, in apparent shock, and Arthur vaguely registered that he had very nice eyes - they were very blue. "I'm just sure you must be joking in some way."

Arthur gave a casual shrug. "I'm not," he insisted, in his most plainly honest tone - he'd spent hours perfecting it.

He kept his distance this time, not wanting to overcrowd the other man or come on too strong. That would arouse suspicion, as it had the last time; he needed to play this more carefully. A normal seduction would not work here, Merlin was far too clever for that - he needed to earn his trust first, though it might be more difficult than he had first anticipated.

Merlin was already looking utterly disbelieving.

"I know you think my club is a joke," he snapped, a flush of anger rising up his pasty white neck.

Arthur frowned slightly in response. Of course, he _did_ think the club was a joke, but so far he felt as though he'd been pretty good at hiding it. "Who said I think it's a joke?"

Merlin stared at him for moment, as though trying to figure out whether Arthur was kidding or not. "Um, you did, on several occasions," he replied, like he was talking to a particularly slow child, "Like when I handed out fliers in your Maths class and you joked that I should rename the club Forever Alone."

Oh, shit, Arthur thought. He had forgotten about that. To be honest he hadn't even remembered ever meeting Merlin before.

"It was a joke!" Arthur exclaimed, somewhat defensively, vaguely remembering howling at the leaflets with Gawain. In his defence, they had been pretty pathetic. "I was joking."

Merlin however, didn't seem to find it quite so hilarious. He went back to packing his bag and said darkly, "Yeah, well, ha bloody ha."

Arthur sighed, something tugging in his chest at the boy's downtrodden expression; he suspected it was what guilt felt like. "Look," he said patiently, puffing out his chest and drawing Merlin's gaze back to him, "think what you want, but why should I be turned away when anyone else would be accepted? That's not fair."

Merlin laughed, but it was a cold and hollow sound. "What would you know about fair?"

Realising he was getting nowhere, and reluctantly admiring Merlin for his sheer stubbornness, Arthur changed tack. "Think about what having me in the Celibacy Club would do..." he said, leaning forwards and forcing Merlin to meet his fiery gaze head-on. Most people could not resist looking him in the eye; he had great eyes. "I'm the most popular guy in school. If people find out that I'm a member, think of all the attention it would bring, how many members would join... Nobody would make fun of you again."

Merlin tilted his head defensively and jutted out his jaw, the change in posture drawing him up to his full height - just an inch taller than Arthur. "I can fight my own battles," he insisted in a steely tone.

The blond grinned, unable to restrain himself, flashing rows of white teeth. Merlin seemed startled at his change in demeanour, but did not pull away. "I don't doubt it," Arthur replied, impressed despite himself. It was probably the only honest thing he'd said in the whole conversation, but Merlin seemed to sense the words were genuine; he looked almost proud. "But why fight any battles at all? With my help you won't need to."

Merlin let out a long breath, and now he looked unsure - still unconvinced, but as though he saw the benefits of the idea regardless.

"There's an ulterior motive here, I know it," he muttered, looking closely at Arthur's face, studying every movement with keen and (Arthur was pleased to note) interested eyes.

The blond did not blink, giving nothing away. "I just want to help," he insisted, pitching his voice softer now, coaxing. He could feel he was close to victory; it was time to go in for the kill. He licked his lips and Merlin's gaze followed. "Let me help."

The other man shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and finally looked away. "Alright, alright, you can help," he said, although he sounded as though the words pained him. He cocked a threatening eyebrow. "But you start dicking around and I swear to god I'll punch your pretty teeth in."

Arthur let out a bark of laughter, surprised but pleased with the snark. Merlin posed no physical threat to him, not really, but he had to admire such brazen courage.

He smirked, and was pleased to see Merlin's mouth twitching slightly in response. "Wow, no wonder you're a virgin," he said playfully, with no real malice, seizing on the opportunity and attempting to lighten the atmosphere, "I sense anger issues."

Merlin glared, arms crossed, but there seemed to be less heat in it than before. "No wonder people call you a prick," he sniped, "I sense you're a prick."

Arthur laughed, and was shocked to find it was genuine. "Cute," he conceded.

And with that, Phase 1 of the plan was complete.

... To be continued...

* * *

A/N Please R&R! Hours to write, only minutes to review :)


End file.
